


500 Miles

by eringilbert



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abortion, Bonding, F/F, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, M/M, Original Character(s), Phase Four (Gorillaz), Queer Themes, Road Trips, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eringilbert/pseuds/eringilbert
Summary: After being humiliated at a house party, an insecure and closeted Noodle finds herself pregnant. When Murdoc finds out about her secret, they set out on a road trip that leads to unexpected bonds and experiences.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the big collab fic by me and eringilbert (@lgbtnoodle on tumblr)! I'm very excited about this fic because it's my first collab and that it's also inherently personal with its subject matter. This fic will explore Noodle and Murdoc's queer identities respectively, their characters, as well as their father-daughter bond. If you didn't notice the tags or the summary, this fic deals with heavy subject matter like abortion and homophobia.
> 
> Please note that this fic takes place Pre-Phase 4 (but after the books), and is borderline an AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning that this chapter makes use of a deadname and pronouns.

The yelling from the living room was becoming too much.

 

Madeline slammed her bathroom door shut and her hands shook as she locked it, trying to dispel of the chaos filling up their small and run down house. The noise alone made the walls shiver. Her back ran down the bathroom door. Her long, black, curly strands of hair from her pigtails are disheveled and tangled by the time she’s sat on the floor. She hid her face in her hands and began to sob.  Her face was hot and the air in her lungs became thinner and thinner with every cry that escaped her mouth. Why did she have to be so fucking stupid?  
  
Madeline wasn't talking about her situation; the stupid part was telling her father and brother _about_ the situation. As soon as the words "I'm pregnant" slipped through her mouth, the men erupted into anger. She had never heard such intense rage in her entire life, much less directed at her.

 

The words "slut", "whore", and "cunt" were fired rapidly at her in a flurry of spit and disbelief. Hannibal went as far as attempting to knock her out. He raised his fist in the air, glaring down at his terrified sister, but it only left their father in dismay. He grabbed his elbow and pulled him back, snarling at him.

 

“The thing she needs less than a god damned baby is a black eye, you moron!" their father yelled as he slapped Hannibal for his attempt. This, in turn, caused the younger man to grab his father’s shirt collar. As expected, the two began to scuffle as they turned their attentions from their pregnant family member to themselves.

 

As they argued about her brother's outburst, Madeline was able to slip past them and take refuge in the bathroom.  
  
She didn't even know _who_ it was - she must have just passed out drunk at the bar she snuck into. Madeline tried to convince herself that the disgust that churned in her stomach and the cringe that lined her face wasn’t from the memory, but the smell of the unkept toilet that sat unpleasantly adjacent from her. She threw her head back, then grunted as the back of her head hit the wall. She rubs the injury with her open palm and sighed.

 

She knew it was a bad idea but, as everyone in her family does, she decided to go against her good judgment. At that moment, her entire mind flooded with hatred at whoever did this to her. At that moment, Madeline vowed that nobody will ever fuck with her like that ever again. Her body vibrated as the adrenaline rushed through her. She looked up and gulped.

  
There was only one thing left in that house that could help her: a singular clothes hanger propping up a plain black blouse on the shower door.


	2. The Store

“ _ I’m just going to the store, to the store! _ ” blasted from the speakers, filling the room that Noodle stepped into. The poppy beats bounced off of the walls and Noodle’s head nodded along as she stuffed her hands in her jacket.“ _ You might not see me anymore! _ ”

 

The bass blended with the buzzing of the already crowded room. Noodle had been to this house before, but it's been quite a while since then. After some brief examination, she concluded that it hasn't changed much; 2D would sometimes take her to this place as he picked up his painkillers. The habit hasn't exactly changed, but now that she was an adult, she was allowed to stay longer.

 

“Now promise me,” 2D said to her as he walked out with his bag of illegally obtained medication in hand, “that you won’t do nuffin’ too bad, aight?”

 

“Toochi,” Noodle replied, a wide, convincing smile spread across her face, “you don’t have to worry! I’ll be fine.” She patted his shoulder as she said this, which easily assured him. With that, he leaned down and gave her a light kiss on the cheek and went off.

 

Noodle, in turn, made her way to the drinks. She took the opportunity, along with the beer, to finally participate in whatever went on in these parties she had a brief look at in past - when she was just a girl. Now she danced, she schmoozed and she got drunk. Clearly, this was what adult living was about.

 

At some point, Noodle found herself lingering in the corner. She has her eyes glued on the girl across the room - just the opposite of Noodle. She doesn’t meet Noodle’s gaze, preferring to stare at the floor. Noodle can’t help but feel hurt when she watches her wipe her cheeks with her thumbs as if though she’d been crying. This girl - with long curly hair that framed her round, beautiful, brown face - was terribly familiar. It made Noodle’s shoulder itch.

 

Once the girl lifted her head and looked briefly for someone in the crowd, Noodle followed her eyeline and spotted some wiry man sitting on the sofa. His hair is a filthy blonde, his back is hunched, and he’s focused on the television screen as he gripped the controller in his hands. And it dawned on Noodle. That was Thomas on the sofa - and that was Arleen in the corner. 

 

Noodle had seen Arleen around the neighborhood. Often with Thomas in tow. She has brushed shoulders with Arleen in bars, greeted her on the street, seen her across crowds (much like this party) and has had small talk with her in grocery stores. It was more than enough to convince Noodle that she had some connection to this girl, and so moved from her spot. To Noodle, it felt like gravity had pulled them together.

 

She approaches Arleen with baby steps, awkwardly shifting on her feet and she swallows her “hey.” Arleen greets Noodle with a weak smile, but her tired eyes give her play away immediately. Noodle deducts, with the way Arleen kept glancing at Thomas, that it had to have been about him. 

 

“No, it's not him,” Arleen shakes her head and hugs herself. She seemed embarrassed. “I’m just....overreacting, I think.” 

 

Noodle scoffs at that, places her hand on Arleen’s shoulder. “Arleen, you're crying,” Noodle whispers. Arleen acknowledges this with a sigh, her shoulders sag as Noodle’s hand slides down her arm and squeezes it for comfort. 

 

“I understand, you know,” Noodle continues. And it's true. Noodle remembers back on plenty of times she had cried at parties, albeit as a child. But it still stands; she understood this feeling of alienation. Noodle’s sure that must be why she stuck to Arleen’s side.

 

“I wish you were having a good time,” Noodle says later, then carelessly lets her beer bottle slip and clumsily juggles it before ultimately gripping it with both of her hands. Arleen laughs at this, her face brightening and her hair bouncing as she does so. Affection blooms in Noodle’s chest.

 

“You know, Noodle,” Arleen says, her cheeks are red, “I’ve never met someone like you.”

 

Noodle blushed, unable to contain herself. She was never one that was easily able to hide her feelings. This is why she usually kept herself distanced from the spotlight during her time with the band; if she just let 2D and Murdoc do all the talking, she wouldn’t have to risk blurting out something inappropriate on impulse. Arleen didn’t seem to notice, which was a relief.

 

Wait, why should Noodle feel relieved? These were just friendly feelings, nothing special. It was probably the alcohol coming up, after all. She just wished it would justify why she suddenly moved herself right against Arleen.

 

“Um,” she circled the lid of the beer bottle with her thumb. Her breath is hot. “I've never met someone like you, either, Arleen.” 

 

Noodle looks up to Arleen, hopeful. Something moves between them - something that twists in Noodle’s stomach and burns with the alcohol at the back of her throat. Arleen’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head slightly. She looks anywhere except for Noodle.

 

“Noodle, I’m sorry, but,” Arleen stutters, loses her words. Noodle’s shoulders tense. Arleen seemed uneasy now - worse than before she approached her, Noodle argued. Panic strikes Noodle’s chest, and she breaks out in a cold sweat. “I’m not interested into that sort of thing,”Arleen finally concludes, and deliberately glances at Noodle’s hand on her arm. Noodle promptly removes it.

 

Noodle shakes her head. “What? No, I wasn’t-”

 

Then, as if on cue, Thomas walks up to them. Much to Noodle’s surprise, Arleen wraps her arm around him. She smiles awkwardly as Thomas carelessly burps in her direction. “See you, Noodle,” Arleen says, then takes Thomas with her to another room. 

 

Noodle is rooted to the spot. She feels a sharp wave of regret hit her, and her face turns hard. This was so fucking humiliating. She looks down at the beer bottle sitting lamely in her hand, and she decides that she deserves some more.

 

* * *

 

 

Noodle doesn’t know how many drinks she had before she finds herself sitting on the floor at the end of the staircase. What Arleen had said keeps spinning in her head, and so she rests it between her knees.

 

Of course Arleen wouldn’t be interested. Who would want this? Arleen and Thomas - everyone would want  _ that _ . It’s normal. What Noodle did - go up to Arleen and practically invade her space is not normal.  _ You’re not supposed to treat girls like that _ , Noodle thinks.  _ That should’ve been Thomas - you’re just in everyone’s way _ .  _ Your feelings are an inconvenience. Get over yourself. _

 

Tears are forming in Noodle’s eyes. She needed to leave this crowd. Nobody should have to deal with her right now. She grunts as she gets up from her uncomfortable position and looks around. Conveniently, there is a bathroom nearby. 

 

The door creaks as she closes it behind her. Noodle’s first instinct is to rest against the sink. She opens the tap and cups her hands as the water pours. She tries to drink as much as she can before it spills back into the sink, because she’s just aware enough to realize the massive headache she’s gonna sport tomorrow.

 

“Hey there, good lookin’.”

 

Noodle whips around and is startled to discover a man in the bathtub. He was clearly drunk with the way he squinted yet smiled goofily back at Noodle. Oh, and the smell gave it away too. Not that Noodle was any more sober, she thinks. 

 

“What’s got you down? Love troubles?”

 

Noodle sighs as she crosses her arms across her stomach. “Yeah, something like that,” she mutters. The man chuckles and plays with his sleeves. “A woman like you shouldn’t be having the blues,”he teases, and Noodle only laughs weakly. The cold wave hits her again.

 

_ You’re being rude. This is what you’re  _ supposed _ to do at parties. Dance, drink and laugh. Chat up guys. Leave girls alone. Nobody’s going to want to talk to you. They’re going to find out who you are -  _ what _ you are, and that’ll be the end for you. _

 

Noodle pushes down the uncomfortable slush in her stomach, and smiles. After some small talk, and something Noodle recognizes as flirting, she gets in the tub with him. This is going to be fine. She’s not a little girl anymore. This is what adult women do.

 

* * *

 

 

That morning, 2D woke Noodle by cautiously shaking her shoulder. “Wake up, love, we gotta get home ‘fore noon,” he whispers, which was enough to disturb Noodle from her sleep. She groans as she turns onto her side and is a little more than offended at the sunlight pouring in through the broken windows. Noodle blinks until her vision is no longer blurry and squints at 2D towering over her. He looks at her with concerned eyes.

 

“You don’t look so good, Noodle. Too hardcore last night?”

 

Noodle scoffs before pressing her palm against her aching forehead. “Barely,” she mutters. Her hoarse voice didn’t make it too convincing. 2D sighs, then gestures to the jacket in his hand. “I found this in the bathroom. It’s stained, sorry.” 

 

“Ew,” Noodle frowned, but took the jacket anyway.

 

2D lent a hand as Noodle peeled herself off of the sofa and clumsily got back on her feet. He wrapped his arm around her waist for support, and the two staggered their way among the sleeping guests on the floor to the front door.

 

It was surprisingly easy finding their car in the ocean of vehicles parked in the front lawn, and Noodle made a beeline for it, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. “I’m laying in the back, okay?” Noodle calls back after a failed attempt at opening the locked car door. 2D laughs and digs for the keys in the back pocket of his high-waisted jeans. “Sure thing.”

 

Noodle is slowly lulling to sleep at the back, appreciating the warmth that landed on her face, when 2D pipes up. “So you got some action last night, huh?” She lifts her head and raises a brow. “What?”

 

“Oh, sorry. I saw you curled up on the sofa with some bloke so I just...did you not-?”

 

Noodle tries to remember, but most of her memories are foggy. Contradicting feelings resurface, and suddenly her ankles are sore. She licks her lips, and becomes worried that she’s taking too long to answer. “Yeah, maybe?”she tilts her head in doubt. 2D makes a non-committal noise and Noodle sees him looking at her through the rearview window.

 

“I never figured you’d be the type,”he quips and Noodle smirks. “What? I can have as many one-night stands as you and Murdoc put together,” Noodle says proudly, closes her eyes and rests her head on her folded arms. For a moment she’s calm, but 2D interrupts it once again.

 

“No, no I don’t mean - I didn’t think you were the type to go for a m…”

 

2D trails off. Noodle opens an eye in curiosity, but finds 2D shrugging his shoulders. “Forget it.”

 

Noodle doesn’t really, but closes her eyes again. She shifts onto her back and stretches her limbs, remembers back on the times she’d fall asleep in the jeep after long concerts. The memory makes her smile and she hugs herself. The further away they drove from that house, the more relaxed Noodle became.

 

* * *

 

 

In weeks to come, Noodle felt uneasy. She was sore in places she hadn’t been from her morning exercises, and she was also noticeably more tired. Noodle didn’t think much of it at first and blamed it on the stress of the upcoming album, but then she realized.

 

She had skipped her period. 

 

Noodle dug through her handbag with shaking hands, trying to calm herself down. There could be a million reasons why she had missed it, she rationalizes. This was just a precaution. 

 

“Where are you going?” Russel asked from the living room sofa. Noodle’s hand lingered on the doorknob. “Going to buy some pads,” is the first thing that falls from her mouth, and Russel accepts it without a doubt. It shouldn’t have made Noodle as guilty as she felt.

 

* * *

 

 

The lighting of the bathroom wasn't exactly the brightest, which made the whole ordeal even worse. Noodle couldn't tell at first what the test had said because of this issue, prompting her to pull out her phone from her pant pocket and turning on the flashlight. She held her breath as she positioned her phone right where she could make out the result.

 

She dropped her phone on the floor.

 

“No,” she muttered. “No, no, no, no,” she repeated, refusing to believe her fate. This couldn’t be happening.  _ None _ of this should be happening!  _ How _ could this be happening-?

 

Wait. The party.

 

Oh, God. The bathroom, the nameless drunkard lying in the bathtub. It all fit. Whoever that man was, he was the suspect. The culprit. The father. Noodle felt the bile come up her throat at the thought. She jumped from the toilet seat and lifted it in one swift motion, then began vomiting. It was incredibly painful and tasted a little salty. It probably mixed with her tears. She flushed the toilet slowly as she scrunched her nose at the smell. 

 

What if this  _ was  _ all her fault? What if she deserved this to happen for being so careless? “Stop that,” she said to herself, “it’s not your fault. Don’t let that shit get to you.”

 

“NOODLE! DINNER!” boomed Russel’s voice from downstairs. 

 

“JUST A SECOND,” she yelled back at him as she got up from the floor. She splashed cold water on her face and washed her hands. They were going to find out eventually, Noodle knows this, but for now she just had to figure out her next steps. Consider all the options. It was the absolute best thing to do. Noodle cups her cheeks and takes in a deep breath. “You can do this,” she says to herself, then moves.

 

* * *

 

 

Chicken parm. Nothing special. As usual, the table was full of chatter and discussion of all sorts. Murdoc was already tipsy, having started drinking at around nine this morning. He and 2D were arguing about Big Brother again and who should've been evicted the previous night. Great. Noodle cut her chicken and began to eat slowly. She was, in no way, hungry after what she had just learned.

 

Much to Noodle’s dismay, Russel took notice. “Hey, babygirl,” he said as he tried to keep his voice low. “What's wrong? You seem a lil under the weather.” He frowned.

 

“Oh, just hungover. Went to a bar last night to meet with a potential collaborator,” she replied. It was partially true; she did go to a bar for a meeting, but she barely drank. As she recounted the details of the meeting to Russel, she began to feel nauseous again. “Will you excuse me please?” she said more weakly than she's ever spoken before. Noodle rushed out of the dining room and practically bolted to her bathroom.

 

Russel hit 2D against the back of his head to get their attention. “If you two can’t be quiet for one minute-!” he exclaimed as the blue haired man rubbed his head and whimpered pathetically. This caused Murdoc to choke out a laugh, earning him another slap on the head. “Something is up with Noodle,” Russel continued. “Murdoc, would you mind going up and asking her what's wrong?” 

 

Murdoc scoffs at this and folds his arms. “Why me?” Russel rolls his eyes. “Because I can’t trust you,” he gestures between the two men, “to leave you alone.”

 

At this, Murdoc reluctantly got up, glared at 2D and told him that “this discussion ain't over, chum,” and walked up to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Only she wasn't in the bathroom. 

 

However, Murdoc knew she had a presence there. This was given away by the foul smell emitting from the toilet. “Do we live in a fucking pigsty?” he called out as he covered his nose with the collar of his black button up shirt and flushed the toilet. As he washed his hands, he saw a bright light creep underneath Noodle’s bedroom door. He opened it and saw something he never expected to see.

 

Noodle’s room was an absolute disaster. Every drawer was thrown open, their contents scattered across the floor. Her various purses were haphazardly thrown onto her bed. They, too, were emptied out and searched through. Murdoc heard the clatter of objects coming from her closet and approached it carefully. 

 

“Noodle?” he asked quietly. “What are you doing?” he continued as Noodle jumped. She was holding a hairbrush at arm’s length, her eyes wide and damp. 

 

“G-Go away, M-mur-rdoc,” she stuttered. It was the first time since their reunion that he had seen her this distressed. He would be lying if Murdoc said he didn't feel anything.

 

“Put down the brush,” he said as calmly as he possibly could. Noodle stepped backwards until she brushed passed some of her hanging clothes, hit the wall and fell on her backside. Before Murdoc could help her up, she leaped forward and slammed her closet doors shut.

 

Murdoc impatiently knocked on the door. “Aye, wasabi,” he said in a more threatening tone. “There's obviously something wrong that you need ta tell me!” At this, Noodle slowly creeped open the closet door. It had a low creak to it which Murdoc made a mental note on to fix later. She held out her hand.

 

“In,” she whispered once she calmed down. Murdoc took her hand and stepped into the closet. Noodle shut the door behind them.

 

The closet was dark, cramped, and stuffy. It wasn’t Murdoc’s exact ideal space, so he really did want to get out as soon as possible. He tried pressuring Noodle to talk. However, this had the opposite effect that he was aiming for and just made her incoherently cry even more. So he just shuts up and waits. After about ten minutes of sitting in the closet, she finally spoke.

 

“I'm pregnant.”

 

Murdoc recognized that voice. It reminded him of all those years ago, during a time he would rather just forget. She was scared. She was nervous.

 

She was afraid for her life.

 

Those two simple words hit Murdoc like a freight train with a never ending line of cargo carriers.

 

“I went t-to a pa-arty a while back and I-I slep-pt with someone,” she said as tears started to resurface. Her body shook as she spoke. “I’m so-orry, Murdoc. I really am,” she barely said, practically cried; her voice becoming more and more strained with each word. Noodle collapsed onto her father and began to sob against his chest.

 

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about,”he whispered against the top of her head. Murdoc gently raked his fingernails through her long hair. He used to do this sometimes when she was younger whenever she missed Kong on tour. He held her close - this was something she needed. Murdoc knew it was something he needed, too. Been needing ever since…

 

Unsurprisingly, Noodle began to relax and looked up at him.

 

He looked back at her, smiled, and quietly asked, “how do you plan on handling this bloke?”

 

Noodle giggled before coughing into her fist. 

 

“I've been thinking about it, and I want an abortion. That way, I can continue work on the album and not worry about carrying a baby in my stomach for the next nine months. The only problem is that I have absolutely no money.” Murdoc was shocked to hear this.

 

“Wait a minute-” he began to respond before Noodle cut him off with a “fucking con artists, saying they can convert anything.” 

 

Then Murdoc remembered this story; apparently, Noodle got ripped off by a salesman in Piccadilly Square who claimed to be a currency converter. Turns out he was a total fraud. How could he forget? It was one of the few times Noodle had ever been swindled. However, that wasn't the issue. It's that if she didn't have money for the abortion, she would have to-

 

Oh, God.

 

“I'll do it,” Murdoc announced as he jumped up unexpectedly. Noodle yelped in confusion. “Wait, what?” she asked, incredulous. Murdoc squatted down and placed his hands on her shoulders. 

 

“If you want to get money for the abortion, then count on me.”

 


End file.
